So It Did Go On
by Lammybug
Summary: A promise is kept, but not in the way that you would imagine. Life is an awfully big adventure.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: This story was only written for entertainment purposes and is in no way making any money here or anywhere on the net. All characters belong to J.M. Barrie. Story comes from the Movie verse of the 2003 release of Peter Pan starring Jeremy Sumpter and Rachel Hurd-Wood.

Author's Note: After some thinking and then some more thinking, I have finally managed to write a sort of extended version to my short fic, "The Secrets We Keep." Things are similar and some things are the same. What worked in that short story didn't seem to fit into this one. You might find out in later chapters of those differences. For right now, both stories are basically complements of each other.

**Prologue**

The wind can blow and time can stand still. In that brief lapse of time, one can realize the most revealing of truths. It only takes a moment for your life to change. Countless childish joys paled in comparison to the utter bliss that can result from maturity. With all things, maturity came at a price. Bliss and agony coexist in a world of uncertainty. To one who had experienced the never ending adventures of youth, the adult life was all consuming in its inevitable approach. Yet, a decision had been made and a promise would be kept.

A boy stood alone on a street. His expensive attire catching several stares from those who looked his way, but he never turned his head. Gone was the bushy, wild, dirty blond hair. It was replaced with dark blond hair, pulled back to match the fashion. His face he covered carefully with the tip of his hat. His attentions fully focused on the quaint house that lay across from him. A feeling of unbearable need and impatience stirred within him, yet he kept his feet firmly planted on the sidewalk on which he stood. He was not ready yet. His new adventure had begun and he would make sure it was the grandest one yet. Feelings always were things to be hated and dismissed. Yet, now he found that only one feeling could comfort his otherwise straight-forward existence. All the things he felt were given only one name, Wendy.

Love. What was love? She had mentioned it before. Was it something fleeting? Was it as pointless as hoping the sun would stop rising and falling? Did it always make you feel as if you could not breathe if you were separated from the one you desired most? Was it the cause of how his breath always caught in his throat whenever he caught a glimpse of her? What he wouldn't give to hear her telling her stories again. Just to see how her face would light up and the animated fashion with which she always brought her stories to life, would give him solace.

Schooling had opened his eyes to many new stories, but they were written in books with no pictures. There was no one to act out the many stories that he had, had to read so far. Though he understood what was happening within the story, it was never as appealing than having Wendy tell them. To have her act out the various characters was so much more appealing. Then again, nothing was as appealing as Wendy in his mind. For it was her appeal that had drawn him back to this world.

Being in this world had brought him many surprises, both pleasant and horrid. Something that he had to work most on was his patience. Never had he been forced to practice it in Neverland. Now it was of the utmost importance. Patience was something that he could and would never master, but it was necessary. It was not patience had rooted his feet firmly on the street, but his stubbornness. When things almost became unbearable, his stubbornness shined through. For it was his supreme stubbornness that had gotten him through this difficult and challenging adventure.

Standing there, as he was, he knew was longer than appropriate. He knew he had to leave before one of the occupants of the house noticed his presence. He sighed audibly as he looked down at the black shoes that he had to force himself daily, to wear. Everything was so restricting and frustrating. Dark emerald eyes looked back up at the house again.

"Life without you is not worth the adventure," he sighed softly as he turned to leave the beloved house behind.


	2. Chapter One

Chapter One

Jealousy. She had mentioned that before too. What had been his response? Tinkerbell. It was not until that moment that he truly understood the feeling. He knew what the presence of other gentlemen in the Darling household meant and he did not like it. This strange and inviting pain seemed to press into his chest each time he saw one of them being received into the household. It gave him small satisfaction that these boys would never be as exciting as the times he and Wendy had shared. He only hoped that she had not forgotten him. His ever-waning patience began to dissolve all the more.

With a heavy heart, he made his way inside him home. It had been a month since he had, had a glimpse of Wendy. She was seldom allowed out of the house and when she was, she was always covered by a carriage, waiting just outside the door. It was at those times that he had to force himself to hide behind his hat and turn away. He had made it a point to attend social affairs but she was never there. Even her parents kept mostly to themselves even though her father did make the position of manager a couple years ago. He had seen a glimpse of her parents from afar but was much too afraid to approach them.

The house he entered was vast but not overdone to draw too much attention to himself. He liked his privacy. Though he cared little for things such as furniture, his house was finely furnished and elegant. If it had been up to him, he'd only have the essentials and not have bothered with all the trinkets he was told he needed to obtain to have a suitable home. Since money was something that he never cared about or was in lack of, he never complained about it being used for these things. He only needed to be told that it was what Wendy would prefer before he quickly relented. Wendy, she was their constant ace to play when dealing with him.

Without trying to gain the attention of his butler, he quickly made his way towards one of his favorite places, the library. The room with its many stories was a place of comfort to him. It made him feel closer to Wendy. Often times he sat there picturing the look on her face when he showed this room to her. He wanted her to see how vast his collection had gotten. He wanted to watch her as she brought these stories vividly to life in front of him. It was by far one of the biggest rooms in the house. It had one high ceiling containing two floors with shelves and shelves of books. With no illustrations in most of them, he always pictured how Wendy would tell them and could almost see her making the appropriate gestures.

The sigh that echoed softly within the great hall was followed by the sounds of him jumping onto one of the couches. He lay flat with his arm over his eyes, trying to wish away the unpleasant thoughts of Wendy with someone else.

"Still no sign of the young Miss eh?" asked a warm voice as it entered the library and made its way over to he lying form.

"No," he said bluntly as he remained unmoving.

"When was the last time you saw her?" the voice asked as they sat into the chair across from him.

"Four weeks, half a day," he answered as he finally lifted his arm and sat up to look at the owner of the voice. "If I had a watch I could tell you the time."

"Some people would consider that madness."

"Mr. Smee, I am going crazy," he emphasized putting his face in his hands.

"Patience Peter, my lad. We've discussed this hadn't we?" asked Smee gently. He looked so different from his pirating days. His hair was taken care of, his clothes were of fine quality and he no longer wore his hat. "We have to be patient."

"For what?" asked Peter as he lifted his head. Green eyes flashed to Smee's brown ones. "I have been patient. How much longer do I have to drive myself insane?"

"Until you're ready young master."

"I am ready enough," he pressed. "I have worked hard all these years..."

"Yes em," answered Smee thoughtfully before he could finish. "I know you've worked hard."

"She is that age you say that she should be getting married," stated Peter. "Suitors come to regularly to see her that I've lost count!" he exclaimed by throwing his arms out for emphasis.

"That many eh?"

"Yes," answered Peter with a nod. "I've half a mind to run them through."

"That wouldn't be proper now would it?"

"Maybe. But it would make me feel a whole lot better."

"Can't be that many," stated Smee.

"Ten!" shouted Peter before he could stop himself. His eye widened as he realized the trick. He gave Smee a half hearted glare. "Okay, so I did keep track of how many."

Smee sighed. "I know it seems like it has been forever."

"It has been forever," emphasized Peter again.

"Hadn't old Smee suggested you not go anymore?"

"It helps me remember why I chose to do this in the first place."

"Does it?"

"I just want to talk to her," sighed Peter in resignation. Once again he lay down and covered his face with his arm.

"Miss Wendy won't settle for those gentlemen," assured Smee.

"Why wouldn't she?" asked Peter. "What have I to offer her?"

"Many things master Peter," answered Smee warmly. "What lady would refuse you?"

"I don't want just any lady," stated Peter. "It seems the one lady I want, has many like me. But I will never have anything close to her." He pulled his arms away from his face to wipe the weariness from his eyes. "Tell me again why I have to keep waiting."

"Because patience always gets you what you want."

"Try again," said Peter flatly.

"If you pursued her now, you could simply blend into the herd of suitors," he laughed at Peter's frightened face. "I am only kidding my lad. We need to finish your schooling first."

"What more do I need to learn?" asked Peter calmly, but he made no move to sit up.

"That would be one thing," commented Smee dryly. "That temper of yours still has not improved."

Peter bit his lip in frustration.

"You simply can't learn everything at once."

"But I am a fast learner," Peter pushed.

"True, yer accent is almost unreadable now. But it slips at times."

"Is it really all that important?"

"Yes, here in London, yes," answered Smee. "I am new to this, just as ye are but I know a thing or two about being proper and the proper thing to do here is to sound like everyone else here."

"Not everyone sounds the same here," pointed out Peter. "The common folk and the rich folk talk differently and so do the others that you call, 'middle class'. Even the lost boys had different accents."

"Which do you prefer to sound like?" asked Smee.

"Whichever sounds best," shrugged Peter. "But I do not know which one that is."

"Well, since we're trying to give off the impression that we're of rich folks, we should talk like rich folks shouldn't we?"

"I suppose," grumbled Peter. Then his eyes moved to Smee's face again. "Have I gotten the rich people talk?"

"Very well lad," reassured Smee.

"Then?"

Smee tried to explain but knew that no explanation would help the young man before him. Things didn't make sense to those who were still youths. Peter would only understand fully when he was an older man like himself. "Just take ol' Smee's advice son. It's never let ye down before has it?"

Peter's eyes went to his feet as if he were suddenly discovering them. "No, Mr. Smee," he said as if defeated. He visibly changed the way he formed the words in his mouth to produce the accent he was practicing. "Your wisdom is the only thing that has gotten me through life here and I thank you for your efforts."

"That's a good lad," said Smee smacking Peter's leg. "I'll give ye a minute before tis time for dinner."

Peter smiled sincerely at the old man before he disappeared behind the door.  He waited until he heard the soft click of the door before he allowed his eyes to close and sighed again. If he waited much longer he felt as if he would lose whatever chance he had with Wendy. He knew that Smee was not lying to him without waiting, but he was in a rather difficult situation. Wendy. She was bound to fall in love with one of those boys that were swarming around her house. In their hands, they always had the same things: a small parcel, flowers and whatever things their imaginations came up with. All this to woo his Wendy. It irritated him but he understood how they felt. Wasn't he in the same situation?

His irritation went further as he realized that he had never taken the time to notice the little things that Wendy enjoyed. Yes, she was a great storyteller. Yes, she was a great mother. Yes, she loved fairies. What else did she like? She had liked the Acorn that he had given her that night, long ago, hadn't she? She had worn it around her neck and it had saved her life from Tinkerbell's attempted murder. As he learned more about society, he came to an even more thorough realization that Wendy was precious. He remembered how she wasn't overly critical about the flimsy condition of the treehouse. It was never cleaned but she had loved it there. The house that they had built for her wasn't much but she had appreciated it.

What he did remember was the subtle things. He remembered how she had loved the feather the Indians had woven into her hair. The sash of woven flowers across her chest had been an understatement to her. She deserved to have the fullest blooms, not the smallest daisies. The flowers of London did not have the vibrant, luster of the flowers of Neverland but he knew of a few that would bring out the blueness in her eyes. A self satisfying grin spread across his face just picturing about it.

Almost unconsciously, his hand went to the chain around his neck and pulled the well polished thimble from underneath his shirt. His eyes focused on the small beloved object before he pulled it closer to his face to kiss it. It had been her first kiss to him. He hadn't thought much of it when she had originally gave it to him but now, everything that came from Wendy was the most precious of his possessions. If only he had not been so ignorant as to what a real kiss was. She had offered it to him, twice in different terms and his childishness caused him to miss out on both opportunities. He knew the power of a kiss now. He wished he could prevent any other man the honor of being granted one of Wendy's kisses. Her hidden kiss was promised to him but he knew that, that would not stop other men to try and take it. Once they had experienced the power that Wendy's kiss contained, what would make them stop?

The frown that appeared on his young face was of sadness rather than madness. He had no control over Wendy. He had no right to her. He had left her when she had asked him to stay. As appealing as it was to think that he could run each and every one of those suitors through with a sword, he could not do it. He did not need Smee to tell him that it was wrong. It was something that he knew by instinct though his boyishness urged him to do so. This was not Neverland. The world did not bend to the will of Pan. He was a slave to it now and he could only do so much. These frustrations were what he had forgotten. These were the frustrations that had urged him to leave and fly away from his parents and the life that could have been. So easily he had forgotten all of it. The only thing he could never forget was Wendy.

His greatest fear was her reaction to him being older. To see that the boy who refused to grow up, had, for her. Had he not said it before? That to live would be an awfully big adventure? There was no way to describe the feelings that had run through him as he watched Wendy and the Lost Boys return to a family. It had been the only time that he had wished that he had chosen another path for himself. It was the moment that he realized that he could not leave her behind, to grow up, while he would stay forever young. Their adventure together had hit too close to his heart. He did not want to forget about the things that they had shared and discovered. There was little he could do but to come back to the world he had left behind to try and win the girl he would lay his entire future on.

The library suddenly seemed too confined for him. He needed to be outside when the night was falling across the sky. To be outside and in the open gave him peace. He ignored the bustling of the city and the worries that came with growing up. He opened the outer doors of the library and stepped out onto his patio overlooking the vast gardens. Besides the library, he had invested much of time to making the perfect garden. It had taken several trips from Neverland to bring Wendy's house, the trees and plants that would be needed to complete the jungle look. To his dismay, most of the plants they brought with them did not fair well in this colder climate. However, it did not deter him. He had worked vigorously to make the majority of it work. He had succeeded a bit too. Though it was not perfect, he had a small replica of the jungles of Neverland outside his home.

An unfinished treehouse lie beneath the biggest tree. If not looked for, anyone could have easily missed the small indentation on the bark. He had, had to make significant changes to the size of the treehouse. The older one would no longer be able to keep him. His London self had told him that this was a bad idea. His Neverland side had told him that it would make things more comfortable for him. It was the only time that thoughts of Wendy did not seem so bad. Wendy at Neverland held more happy thoughts than sad. They had fought about feelings, yes, but overall, there was great joy. He wished that he could have brought the fairies with them so that he could reenact their dance together, but he knew that was unrealistic. The fairies belonged to the magic of Neverland, not to this unbelieving world.

Not very far away from the treehouse was Wendy's house. The small hut kept clean for her. It was one of the few things that Peter had brought from Neverland. He knew that Wendy would have loved to have seen it again. She was too big to step within its walls but she would appreciate that he had not carelessly discarded it once she had left. Just like the thimble against his chest, he would rather have stabbed himself than to have anything of Wendy's destroyed. Maintenance was very minimum since all the leaves and flowers surrounding it were still rooted. From time to time he would lay a single lily just outside the door as if Wendy would come out and take it.

Green eyes went back to the treehouse that was still unfinished. His training told him that right now would not be a good time to go inside his treehouse. So he remained standing by the tree and looking up at the sky. He found himself missing the gentle singing of the birds of Neverland but the sounds of crickets comforted him. The twinkle of the, oh so familiar, star seemed to call out for him. The island seemed to call for his return. A call he would not ever answer. He had begun this adventure and he could not look back now. He gave the light a wink before he sensed someone walking up behind him.

"Yes, Mr. Colins?" he asked without turning around.

"Young master," answered the small, quiet butler. "Do come in to dinner."

Peter sighed again as he turned to look at the star again. "Very well."


	3. Chapter Two

Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed. I'm trying to make this as unique as possible. There are so many great fics for Peter Pan that it's hard to not want to copy them in some way or another. In trying to write this story, I have faced a few difficulties and I'm trying to make everything smooth. This chapter was a bit rushed so I'm sorry if it's got a lot of errors on it.

**Enola:** Unfortunately, I am not going to have Hook make an appearance. The most he will have is a flashback but nothing new.

**ChildofGod****:**  This story is leading towards them finally meeting each other again. I was in a debate on whether or not I would go to Wendy's POV. I decided against doing so for now. I probably will in the upcoming chapters to get a little balance but I think the suspense of the story being one sided is more interesting.

Chapter Two

            Lessons continued each day and Peter found his thoughts wandering more than usual. He had, had the same nightmare again the night before. The nightmares had increased when he had returned from London that fateful night. When before, he would not remember then once he awakened, now he could. They were all circled the same person.

            He was back in Neverland, reliving the last defeat of Hook. How he had watched Hook slowly descend as Wendy and the Lost boys chanted. Wendy who had needed no promptly for her to know what he was thinking. For it was she who finished his thought by saying, "Done for". He had grinned at her then. Wendy,, was she ever anything other than perfect? Except for her need to and desire to grow up, she had been. Now that he was growing up along with her, she would be nothing less now.

            Peter shook his head to go back to his nightmare. The voice of his tutor was drowned out, once again, by his musings. Hook had lost his happy thoughts and had fallen within the mouth of the crocodile. He had returned Wendy to her parents along with his friends and comrades. He had promised that he would return. He had promised he would never forget. The feeling of his heart breaking as he had waved good-bye to her. Things would never be the same in his heart. Without her, the island was never as colorful. The adventures would never been as intriguing. Without her stories, everything was in an unbearable silence.

            This dream always started the same. He was flying back, towards Wendy's home. Despite his many adventures, he had remembered to keep his promise to come back for Wendy. He had never forgotten completely about her, he just had just been distracted. His carefree existence had no time to pick her up. Finally, his thoughts had begun to center only around Wendy until he had relented and left Neverland to get her. His memory was almost perfect when it came to directions on how to get there. Why wouldn't it? Hadn't he been there just a couple days before to drop her off?

            Just as she had promised, her window was not locked when he arrived and he easily opened it to fly into the darkened nursery. The only light was from the carefully lit fireplace in the corner. He paid it no heed as he quietly walked towards Wendy's bed on the far wall and called out her name.

"Wendy, I have come back for you."

"Hello Peter," answered a soft voice behind him.

He turned around and smiled as he saw the silhouetted figure sitting beside the fireplace.

"There you are," he grinned.

"I cannot come with you Peter," she answered with a sad laugh. "I have forgotten how to fly."

"Pfftt," he said undeterred. "I shall teach you again."

"It is more than that," she said as she slowly stood to her full height. He still could not see her face but she was good foot taller than he was. It was something worse than feeling Hook stab his heart out. He who felt he could get though any situation with a laugh. A laugh was the furthest thing from his mind as he felt the utter defeat of growing old. His precious Wendy had become an adult. She had moved along to another journey, leaving him behind. His heart sank at the dawning revelation and he begged her not to turn on the light. She heard his plea but didn't listen as she slowly turned the lamp on.

           He always awoke just as her face was to be revealed to him. Even though it was a dream and there had been no real face, it made no difference. It was just the cold reality that his Wendy would grow up and grow old no matter what he wished. Sometimes he could faintly make out what she had looked like as a grown up but the images quickly faded. He took comfort in the fact that he had bested her in this. He has grown so that he would not be left behind. That still did not stop his nightmare and he feared the reason why his subconscious still plagued his mind on the issue.

"Young Master Panning," said the tutor, startling Peter out of his revelry. "You would progress a great deal more if you paid attention."

"My apologies Mr Goddard," said Peter as he straightened himself up.

"May I inquire as to what you were meditating so deeply on?" a raised eyebrow followed the question.

"A possibly future," answered Peter honestly. "A possible future that I am trying to avoid."

"Then perhaps it would be best if you kept your mind on your studies for a better future than you picture."

"Yes sir," said Peter as he looked at the blackboard to take his notes. He stopped himself when he heard Mr. Goddard give out a tired sigh.

"I think this would be a good time to stop young sir," he commented.

"Is there anything wrong sir?" asked Peter.

"I think I need to speak to Mr. Smee," Goddard answered.

"Have I really behaved that badly?" worried Peter. "I will try harder."

"You try hard enough my lad," smiled the professor. "There are a couple things I must discuss with Mr. Smee about your progress."

"Shall I get him for you then?" offered Peter with an attempt at a smile. He wasn't feeling particularly chipper at the moment.

"That would be very kind," answered Goddard warmly.

            Peter stood somewhat awkwardly from his desk and made his way over to the door. He gave the man a quick, uncertain glance before he closed the door with a soft click. In the beginning of his education, he had been more than a handful for his tutors. There had been many confrontations against his running around, back talking, haughty demeanor and his lack of patience. He was a boy, what could they have expected of him. They hadn't expected what he was, is what. True he was generally well behaved but there were days that his patience was thin and the old and mischievous Pan returned with a vengeance. But, when as before, he was untamable, it did not take much to get him back in line. That is when he would remember himself and settle down. It had taken a good deal of time to get Peter to become calm and just slightly mischievous. His temperament had become increasingly cooler but it would flare to life when provoked.

            Temper was not something that you would think associated with Peter at the moment, as he made his way to find Mr. Smee. He found his mentor standing near a window and gazing down at the busy streets below. He was wearing a fine suit with his hands behind his back. When he heard Peter approaching, he turned his head and smiled. His age was showing increasingly more with each passing year. Peter could see new wrinkles forming around his eyes from the light reflecting from the window.

"He wants to see me does he?" asked Smee, quite amused at Peter's nervousness.

"He stopped lessons short so that I could summon you," answered Peter.

"Day dreaming again?"

"Yes," confessed Peter miserably. Smee would probably prolong another attempt to meet Wendy.

"Don't go worrying yourself over that my lad," reassured Smee, knowing the direction of Peter's thoughts. "You wouldn't be human if you paid attention all the time."

Peter let out a sigh of relief as he managed a smile. "So you know what he wishes to speak to you about then."

"Ay," answered Smee. "I sense this is the end of your lessons today. Go do what you please."

Without another word, Peter was gone. He knew just where he would head to first.

            If he could not fly along the chimneys of London, he could walk it's streets all he pleased, thought Peter. His boundless energy was spent walking up and down London's sidewalks as he became more and more familiar with the city he had only seen from the sky. The city was much more interesting when you walked past the droves of people that walked along its streets. He could always feel the energy and bathed in its power. Since he was not the kind of person to sit idly by and let everything pass him by when he had the chance, he quickly grabbed his jacket, coat, gloves and hat to make another expedition to Wendy's house. He had just gotten the first arm within the coat sleeve when, he was approached by Mr. Collins.

"The mail has just arrived sir," announced the old man quietly.

"Oh burn it all Mr. Collins," answered Peter as he put his other arm neatly in his coat. "I have no care to look at more of those."

The old butler stood there with his mouth agape.

Peter gave him a mischievous grin before laughing good-naturedly. "You know I do not need to look at this. Even though I am the one to hurry through it," explained Peter. The man before him was so easy to tease that he could not help but tease his shyness. "If you would please let Mr. Smee know that it has been delivered. I am off to do an errand."

"Very well young master," he answered calmly. "What time shall we expect your return?"

"I shan't be gone long," replied Peter as he plopped his hat about his head and ran out the door.

            Peter walked along the streets in a familiar pattern of tipping his hat to any lady acquaintances that he came across or nod to a gentlemen he knew. All the while he kept a steady and acceptable pace as he tried as quickly as possible to get to his destination. The trip never took him very long, even with the occasional interruption of a lady or gentleman that he encountered on his way. Some trips even took him to the bank that Mr. Darling was the manager of, just to see the work conducted by businessmen. His mind went back to what would be delivered in the mail that day.

            There were always letters for Smee, but never for Peter. True, the invitations were always dressed to the Panning household but there were never any personal correspondences for Peter. Why should he? He had no close acquaintances to write him. Nor did he care to keep any if he had them. That did not stop him from wanting to be the first one to grab the mail from Mr. Collins almost every day. He never knew quite what he was expecting to find in the mail but he knew he should be looking out for something.

            Given the nosiness of neighbors and the general nosiness of London society, everyone wanted to know more about the mysterious Panning household. A family that had, had no previous acquaintance before was now pushed in with only one heir to claim its name. It was a bit overwhelming to be burdened with so many questions during his first introduction to society. Smee had instructed him well on what to say and how to explain why he had no parents and why his parents were not heard of before. He cared little what people thought of him anyway. What he lacked in history, he compensated with in charm. Being a naturally vocal and enthusiastic person, he made conversation easy with both man and woman alike.

            Peter seldom wanted to attend any functions even though he loved the attention paid him when he did. He found people in London boring and predictable. In a way, he had become a storyteller himself, as he could recall certain adventures that he had, had in Neverland. Only he never said it was Neverland, but in the far jungles of the Congo. He had learned to replace fantastical details to things that were logical to their small minded selves could accept. In a way it was his game to keep himself occupied at parties. He did find the constant giggling and chatter carried on by the ladies to be mind numbing and boring. Wendy had never giggled or chattered on about nonsense that he had no interest in. He knew what the weather was without them telling him and he did not care about the gossip of other families unless of course, the gossip was about a certain household.

            The question of Peter's claimed profession seemed to be pressed more and more lately at parties. Of course his first reaction had been that he firmly loathed to work in an office. The knowledge that he could be paid rather handsomely for specific duties at an office was still not appealing to him. In Neverland, he had no need of money. He still had no real need of money either. Yes, he had learned the value of currency. Through his economics studies, he learned of different forms of money that different countries used as means of trade. It was another complicated matter that he had found difficult to comprehend. Then his mind came up with an understandable example. It was something more along the lines of when he had been trading beads and shells with the Indians in exchange for feathers and war paint.

            The bright way in which he enlightened himself on the burdensome subject made him think that he could be a banker. This way he had something in common with Mr. Darling and he could work in a field that he could adapt to. Unfortunately, he was not very good at numbers to begin with so that idea was quickly passed on. He did not want to burden Smee with another difficult question and he was determined to find something for himself. He wanted so much to know what Wendy would prefer. Since it would make him appear to be perfect for her. The begged the question of what Wendy imagined at the perfect man. True, he had been the hero in most of her stories, but that was in a very fantastical sense. He loved that but he knew that it would take more than that. He had to be the hero in a very real sense to her. The pressure to be perfect could have been suffocating had it not been for his firm determination. Indeed, Peter Pan, was not a quitter.

            For now, he would use the excuse that he was still undergoing some intense instruction before deciding upon what would suit him. Whatever occupation he decided, it had to be an outlet for his endless energy. Definitely something that he could, literally, throw himself into. If he kept himself within the confines of a cold, stone building every day, he would go mad. He knew that soon, just going on these daily walks would not satisfy him. Through the years, he had learned many facets about London. Smee had often taken him to the country side to see more of the country. He had to admit that it was all beautiful in its own unique way, but his heart never felt the irresistible tug to remain for too long. Visits were good enough for his curiosity. The vast open spaces had quickly gotten dull for his eyes. He loved the life of the city but it was too confining and its countryside was too empty. There had to be a place of balance.

            It was with all these thoughts running through his head that distracted him enough to slam rather rudely into someone who had mistakenly walked just before him. Books dropped to the damp sidewalk.

"My apologies," said Peter as he knelt down to pick up some of the books.

"My fault for being in such a bloody rush," exclaimed the young man as he looked at Peter in the eye, a friendly smile on his face.

Peter's eyes widened and he felt a feel of dread as he realized that he had just collided with Nibbs. It was not time! He could not expose himself so soon. As he looked at Nibbs' face, he realized that there was no recognition from the other boy.

Nibbs had an embarrassed grin on his face as he finished collecting the books he had been carrying and stood up with Peter.

"I should have been paying more attention myself," said Peter. He felt a disappointed and relieved at the same time. Quickly he tried to think of something to say when he noticed a familiar title in his old friend's arms. "How do you like the white whale?"

"Not much to put it bluntly," sighed Nibbs with a laugh. "I'm not much for reading like this. I do prefer a story like '20,000 Leagues Under the Sea'."

Peter cocked an eyebrow as he tried to recall if he had read that book.

"Haven't gotten that one yet eh?" asked Nibbs excitedly. "My sister told us all about it."

Peter felt that all too familiar ache in his chest at the mention of Wendy.

"Tall tales about life under the sea and about a monstrous octopus!" he beamed as he extended his arms to emphasize his point.

Peter couldn't help but laugh with him. He grinned thinking that at least Nibbs had not changed in other ways.

"I shall request it with my bookseller the next I am in his store."

"It comes highly recommended by a great adventurer and storyteller," beamed Nibbs as he nodded more enthusiastically.

"And who would that be?" asked Peter, even though he already knew.

"My sister, Wendy."

"I see," said Peter softly as he diverted his eyes a moment. _Wendy._

"The name's Nathaniel," announced Nibbs as he stuck out his hand rather abruptly.

It nearly took Peter back. He mentally shook his head. He did not have to practice such precise manners when he was with Nibbs.

"Nathaniel Darling," Nibbs finished as Peter shook his hand firmly.

"Peter Panning," said Peter as he looked to see if the name had registered to Nibbs.

Nibbs only shook his hand and grinned again. "Well, I should be off. Mother would have wanted me to home by now."

Peter could only nod back. "I am glad to have run into you Nathaniel." The formality had become so ingrained within him that all his reactions were becoming only polite. Peter wanted to shake his head at how much he had changed.

"I hope we meet again Peter," Nibbs nearly shouted as he sped to a near sprint towards his street.

            Peter watched as his former friend ran off to the house that he had longed to enter. A horrible sinking feeling rushed into his gut and he almost found himself kneeling down at the pain. His heart pounded in his chest and he was suddenly very short of breath. One of his closest friends, someone that he had trusted to strategically plan out all their battles in Neverland, had forgotten him. He had not recognized him at all. Was his appearance and manner so different that even Nibbs wouldn't recognize him on the street? Was he even the person that he had been so long ago? He turned away from the house. There would be no standing in front of it today. He needed to sit down somewhere in peace. Some place that he knew he would be quiet and serene. Quickly and half stumbling from the shock, he made his way towards Kensington Gardens.

            What really troubled Peter was not really Nibbs. His worst fears seem to come to a crushing reality. If Nibbs had forgotten Peter, had Wendy as well?


	4. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

            After about a good hour of pounding his feet against the grass of Kensington Gardens, Peter was walking back towards his house. The sounds of the garden had done nothing to relax him at first. Eventually the soothing winds and gently swaying trees calmed him, if only a tad bit. He forced himself to stop pacing and leaned against a tree with his arms across his chest. Though he felt the incredible urge to put his hands on his hips and stick out his chest, he managed to resist. He had sighed a great many times while he hid his face with his hat.

            Eventually his breathing became normal and the thoughts in his head had shifted from despair mixed with a touch of anger to determination and stubbornness. It was then that he began his journey home. Before that happened, however, his mind analyzed his short conversation with Nibbs. Feelings were so blinding at times and he had found himself trying to fight them so that he could rationalize. The educated side of his mind went over all the positive and negatives of the conversation.

            Obviously the former Lost Boys were under no pressure to change as much as he apparently had. Wendy was still telling her stories. This he couldn't help but grin about. The fact that she was still the avid reader and storyteller reassured him more than anything. That would mean that the spirit that made Wendy so desirable was still in tact. It would have been crushing if she had grown to become one of the stuffy and boorish young ladies that he had to endure conversations with. Since Nibbs had not recognized him he could still surprise Wendy. But was his lack of recognition because Nibbs had forgotten about him or was it that he had changed that drastically that he had fooled him? If it was the first, Peter would be crushed. For that would mean that his darling Wendy had also forgotten about him. If the latter were true then would he still have a chance at winning Wendy? Maybe it was both.

            Now, as he walked within sight of his home, a determination had set in. He swore that either way, it did not matter. He would try and make Wendy fall in love with him. Love him as Peter Panning or Peter Pan, it did not matter. Just as long as she loved him, he would be happy. That would make everything he had done worth the price. It would make his last adventure the greatest triumph of his life. True, it broke him to think that there was a chance that Wendy had forgotten their precious moments together, but he would not turn back in defeat. He would win this battle.

            The adrenaline pumped through his veins like a drug as he climbed the steps of his house and stepped through the door as Mr. Colins held it open.

"Dinner young master," he announced.

"Perhaps later Mr. Colins," answered Peter thinly. He mechanically began taking off his hat, gloves, coat, jacket, shoes and socks. "I wish to be outside," he stated as he unbuttoned his collar and began pulling up his sleeves. His steps never halted as he made his way towards the backgrounds, leading into the garden. "The tree house is calling to me."

"Hang on a moment there lad," called Mr. Smee as he hurried down the stairs to catch Peter from leaving the doors. "I cannot allow ye to get yeself all dirtied up just yet."

Peter clenched his jaw as he tried to look at Smee calmly as he halted his steps. "I possess too much motivation at the moment," explained Peter. "If you keep me within walls you may regret it."

"What happened?" asked Smee, as a flash of fear wrinkled his face.

Peter sighed as he leaned against the doorway. He pinched the area between his eyes and tried to think of how to explain what happened to Smee. "Nothing," he tried.

A raised eyebrow told him that his answer wasn't good enough.

"There was no premature meeting between Wendy and I if that is what troubles you," he sighed again.

"Is that the very reason you suddenly need to exert yourself?"

"Not, exactly," said Peter, hesitantly.

"Then what is it exactly?"

"Why am I not permitted to dirty myself?" asked Peter.

"That anxious are we?" asked Smee with a glint in his eye. His look of worry was gone behind a masked smile.

"I can always feel the energy radiating out of my ears," commented Peter. "I have a few new additions I want to put into the tree house before I forget."

"We both know that is impossible lad," said Smee. "But since you have so much energy I have no need to give you any for tonight."

Peter suddenly felt very afraid. He suddenly noticed what Smee was wearing.

"Have you forgotten the Costume Ball tonight?"

Peter's face immediately turned pale. "I suddenly feel like sleeping."

"Too late for excuses lady," said Smee as he walked closer to Peter. "So it would be most appropriate to hurry and ready yourself."

"Why are these events so looked forward to?" grumbled Peter. "Why did you not mention this before? You know I tend to forget such gatherings."

"Then I would have had to hire detectives to find you," commented Smee off handedly.

Peter groaned and tried not to pout as he allowed Smee and Mr. Colins to lead him up the stairs to his room.

"Mr. Colins, we must make sure he looks his best."

"I would rather look my worst," grumbled Peter. "Am I not going to wear a mask? Why must I look my best underneath a mask?"

"You only keep the mask on until midnight," answered Smee.

"I still prefer to go just as I am now," complained Peter. "Everyone there will have already dressed as peacocks with their feathers ruffled with lace and meaningless frills."

Smee laughed at the criticism and shook his head. "So ye'd prefer to go as a donkey?"

Peter stopped enough to squint at Smee before a grin spread across his lips. "To be a wolf then," he suggested. "Then maybe the peacocks would not flock to me!"

"Get on with you lad," said Smee giving him a small nudge on the shoulder. "We only have an hour to be ready."

"Why are there so many of these things?" asked Peter as they were finishing up his costume. Due to his lack of enthusiasm in the event, he was only going to wear a black tuxedo with long tails. His mask was very elaborate and it stuck to well to his face that you could just barely make out his lips beneath it. His unruly hair was securely slicked back so that the mask could slip on easily. It seemed to stare at him from where it lay on the bed. "There is a Spring Ball, a Masquerade Ball, a Summer Ball, an Autumn Ball, a Winter Ball and every other conceivable excuse to hold one!"

"Have you counted those too?" asked Smee as he worked on tying Peter's collar.

"I have lost count with those," said Peter as he saw Smee's knowing gaze. "This time, I speak truth."

"Umhmm," said Smee as he finally managed to tie the bow sufficiently.

"The only one I wanted to go to was Wendy's debut," grumbled Peter. "But that was the one I was not allowed to attend."

"We should head down the stairs now," said Smee as he gave Peter another look over before he felt they were both properly dressed. Smee had chosen to wear a less intricate mask for himself. It was pure white and simple with no beads or feathers. He snatched up Peter's mask off of his bed before he answered the hanging question. "You know the reasons for that," he answered as he handed the mask to Peter and started pushing down the stairs and into the awaiting carriage outside.

"I doubt the minds of London are bright enough to sense those coincidences," commented Peter as they both grabbed their appropriate hats and cloaks.

"You give no credit to gossipers then," laughed Smee almost bitterly. He shooed Peter into the carriage before getting in himself. "The fact that an unfamiliar face appeared at the same time a certain lady was being debuted would bring notice to those eyes."

"It was not just Wendy's debut," argued Peter. "A debutante ball is for a group of ladies."

"Aye, but who would you have watched quite scandalously?" asked Smee with some dramatic tone.

Peter sighed in resignation as he leaned back on his side of the compartment. "I know it is not in my place to argue," said Peter. "You are right in your reason, but that would have been the only one that I had any wish to attend. It was a big moment in Wendy's life and I have missed it. Just as I miss everything else. You know, as I know, that Wendy does not attend balls often. It seems as if I am invited to the ones she is not and so on." Bringing his elbow to rest on the window, he leaned towards it and covered his mouth with his hand in thought as he looked outside at the passersby.

"Whatever happened this afternoon must have been really something," stated Smee as he watched Peter's drastic mood swing.

Peter turned his head to regard him for a moment. "It was," he said simply as he turned his head away again.

"Oh come now," said Smee as he tried to keep the mood light. "Not having sad thoughts are we?"

"Never," said Peter without turning his head. "But I suddenly feel drained."

"You only say that because of where we are going," teased Smee. "You exude energy my lad. You will get through tonight."

            The carriage came to a halt as they had reached their destination. A grand estate lay before them and they found themselves surrounded by other carriages bearing other guests. Everyone seemed to have arrived at once. There was an excited atmosphere around them that you could not feel so dull with it.

"Now, look tis lovely," said Smee as he pointed towards the elaborate house.

"Enchanting," grumbled Peter without taking a glimpse. He slid on his mask and stepped out of the carriage. The surroundings were not at all appealing to him as he turned around to help Smee out of the carriage. He noticed that Smee had been having a harder time moving around as he used to.

"Will you be all right?" asked Peter, genuinely concerned. "Should I have the carriage take you back home and return for me later?" He grabbed hold of Smee's arm to help him get up the stairs.

"No need to worry about me," reassured Smee as he steadied himself with his cane. "Try to have fun tonight." With that he had turned and made his way towards a few gentlemen of his acquaintance.

Peter watched him go with a worried expression on his face. For a moment he simply watched Smee as he conversed with the group of gentlemen before making his way towards the ballroom. It was then that he noticed just how many people were running around in masks. There were masks of very shape, size and color. A few people were dressed as animals, which caused him to smirk. Many of the ladies were damsel in distresses and more than a few gentlemen were dressed as nothing. They probably were looking forward to this just as he was. The anonymity that comes with wearing a mask is a blessing indeed, for none seemed to recognize him. He recognized many of the masked people by their movements and their shapes. If they had not recognized him, there was no need for him to initiate a conversation he did not want to have.

The smoky lighting produced by the ornate chandeliers above gave the room a mysterious glow. Shadows danced along the ceilings and the walls. If not for the many people around, you would think that the room was filled with ghosts. It gave Peter an exhilarated feeling as he walked along the walls. Murals were painted with stories from Greek myths and he found himself lost in them. The room was stuffy but with a little bit of ingenious side stepping, he easily made his way through as he studied each mural.

Venus. Goddess of love. Her long, brown curls flowed along with the wind with a face that pictured all things beautiful and magical. Without her, nothing was worth the adventure. How many men and Gods, alike, had fallen under her spell? Just a smile from her lips could make any feat seem possible. Just to have her in your presence was precious and a rare privilege. No wonder the God of War had forgotten his duties to be with her. There had been no need for war, even to him, when she was there. Beauty and sweetness that could make even the most hardened of men turn to the way of love.

_So much like Wendy has changed me,_ thought Peter as he looked at the goddess. She was smiling slightly, almost to herself. The picture beside her was one of Mars. Peter tiled his head to look at them both for a moment. Shaking his head at the thought, he felt a strange feeling pass through his body. The hairs on his neck seemed to stand up from the connection he suddenly felt. The feeling was so strong that he found himself slowly turning around to look at the crowd of dancers. He turned around fully to take in the sight of that which he had longed to see for so very long, _Wendy_.


	5. Chapter Four

**Author's Note: **Thank you to everyone for your kind reviews. I hope things aren't very confusing in this chapter since I'm changing POV's at least three times within the chapter.

Chapter Four

            The music was still playing and people were still dancing. A part of his mind acknowledged that. The rest of it focused wholly on one person on the dance floor. There she was; the object of his every desire. He would know her even if he were blind. A warm smile spread across his face as he watched her dance with her partner. Taking in her costume, he wished that he could be the one to dance with her. What else would she come dressed as? But as a lady pirate. Her hair free from any restraints was wild around her head. She wore a thick belt to carry her long sword and her dress was red with its thick, flowing skirts. Her mask was effective at hiding her expression from him. From where he stood, he could not see if she were laughing or frowning. She would have looked as she had when they had danced among the fairies.

Without much thought, he found himself walking towards her. It was a moment before he realized himself and stopped to look at his surroundings. It wouldn't do to forget what he had learned to be worthy of her so early on. He quickly looked around for any lady of his acquaintance so that he could politely ask her to dance with him. It would be too direct to walk up to Wendy and break up her partner and her in the middle of a dance. Then again, if he randomly asked any lady, the wrong impression would be given and he wasn't about to complicate things by adding any parties that weren't necessary.

So instead, he did the next best thing. He waiting for an opening in the dance where everyone switched partners before he broke in. In just a moment, it was she that was in his arms. She who had been the cause of so much in his life. She who could affect him like no other before her. Wendy. 

The feelings within him as he held her now were so much more different than when they were younger. True, he still felt a little uneasy at being so close to her and holding her. This time, things were so much more than they were. She was right about that too. By growing up, he felt more of everything when he was around her. It seemed like his senses were on full awareness of everything about her. The way her hair swayed as he twirled her in time to the dance to the way her body moved with a fluid grace. He had to take a moment to himself to realize that he was not dreaming that she was actually there with him. It was she with him in this moment. Suddenly he felt light and he felt an exhilaration that even flying couldn't match up to.  
            The smile that crossed her lips was warm and polite. If she hadn't taken all of him already, he was completely hers now. Who would not be won by something as enchanting as that? He felt like they were floating in the air but their feet had not left the ground. His heart seemed to beat out of his chest and the arms around her were shaky.   
"Do I know you sir?" she asked curiously, though her warm smile was still on her face.  
She had spoken. It had been so long since he has last heard her voice, he felt uncertain. He looked down and saw the waiting expression on her face before contemplating what to say. "I am just another masked face lady," he answered playfully. The chance to play with her was too enticing to pass up. "Do I seem familiar?"  
"Faintly," she said honestly. She squinted to try and focus on his face. "I feel I may have danced with you before."

"Perhaps at a previous ball," he commented off-handedly. In truth, a small part of him wanted her to know who he was but he couldn't ruin a moment of anonymity. Right now he would be whatever she wanted him to be. A deep wish brew in him that he could be her dream even without the mask. Tonight, perhaps it would be best to remain a mystery to her. The prospect of a small game made his playfulness come forth.  
"Perhaps," she said faintly. She looked away momentarily to glance around her, feeling suddenly shy in front of this stranger.

Peter gave a small knowing smile as he took the opportunity to stare at her costume more closely while she was too shy to look back at him. His eyes couldn't focus. They wanted to see everything new in her at once. His eyes roved the curve of her neck to the slightly protruded collarbone and the creaminess of her skin. Everything about her was enticing. Their gloves became a hindrance to him. They were a barrier from his skin to hers and he wanted to know how he would feel holding her hand again without them. His eyes couldn't concentrate on any one part of her. They wanted to see everything all at once. For anyone who watched him, it would look as he wanted to burn Wendy with his gaze.

"Does my costume offend you?" she asked, breaking him from his thoughts.

"Your costume?" he asked as he slowly came back to his senses.

She smiled again. "Yes."

"Not at all."

"You would be the exception," she sighed somewhat sadly. He wondered briefly about what grief others had given her. "Somehow, to come as a pirate maiden does not sit well with polite society."

He couldn't help but hear the note of sarcasm and frustration from her. This brought a grin to his lips. Wendy was still a bit of a rebel to some degree. "Does that bother you?"

Wendy looked up at him. Seldom did anyone ask her for her point of view. Her eyes flashed with a sudden longing to know whom she was dancing with. Her brows knotted as she suddenly frowned. "No," she half whispered to him. "Not so much now." Her eyes went to his and she smiled again.

            Peter's smile faltered as he heard the closing notes to their dance. A flicker of sadness could be seen on Wendy's face as she realized that their brief time together was ending too soon. The flicker gave him hope. Maybe he needed to test what he feared. Peter twirled Wendy one last time before he carefully pressed his lips to her hand.

"Thank you for this dance Red-Handed Jill," he spoke very softly. Turning quickly, but not without missing the look of utter disbelief on Wendy's face as he disappeared through the throngs of people.

            In the flurry of people scattering to find new partners for the next dance, Wendy lost sight of her mysterious stranger. Her hand was still outstretched to where he had let go of it to escape her and the tingling sensation rising up her arm was numbing. The way that he had held her hand and the careful movements of his body were so familiar to her. She could not make out the color of his eyes behind his mask but she could tell that they were vibrant. There was a life and spark within them that she had only seen once before. It was a love of life and the gift of containing only joy. There was a light in his eyes that spoke of so many promising things to her: adventures, excitement, intrigue and all the like. Then he had also called her childhood pirate name and now could not be seen amongst the crowds of people who were surrounding her. The whole experience left her with a mixture of disappointment and curiosity.

            How could he have known her pirate name? Feeling supremely suspicious, she walked around in search of a voice of reason. In her haste, she missed the simple masked Mr. Smee walk right past her in the hallway. Smee tried to give her as minor a glance as possible before he continued on his way to socialize.

"Mother," called Wendy softly, as she caught her mother in the drawing room.

"Yes, dear?" asked Mary as she excused herself from her acquaintances to address her daughter. "What is it?"

"Have you seen where Nathaniel has gone off to?" she asked lightly.

"I have not seen him since we arrived dear," answered her mother. "You might want to look near the piano." Her mother pointed to the other side of the ballroom. "You know how he loves to listen."

"Yes," answered Wendy. "Silly of me not to think of it before, thank you." She smiled warmly at her mother and walked towards the ballroom again.

            Ever since returning from Neverland, Nibbs had found that he could beat out his frustrations with the real world by playing a pianoforte. Ever since he witnessed his new mother daintily bang her fingers against the keys to create the most beautiful of melodies, he had found his calling. True, he still would be as rough as the rest of the other boys, if not more when it came time for play fighting. But the need to bang against something appealed to him. If he could not use his strategy towards planning battles now, he could plan out how his fingers could move against the keys on the piano. For his adventurous side, Wendy had given him as many novels as she could to satisfy him. He was not a very avid reader but he was beginning to appreciate some of the classics. His favorite was still listening to her retellings of classic stories and fairy tales.

            Wendy caught sight of Nibbs, just where her mother had suggested and slowly made her way towards him. Her eyes couldn't help but rove around the room in hopes of catching a glimpse of her mysterious dance partner but couldn't make him out in the crowds. It was almost frightening how well he had disappeared from her view earlier and she wished that she could see him again. The way they had danced and gazed upon one another seemed like it was a moment in one of her stories. The Prince and Princess meet and their eyes see only on another. She had never experienced that kind of intimacy since… she didn't want to think about that.

Had she been looking more closely, she may have noticed that the object of her inner turmoil was watching her closely as she made her way towards her stepbrother. His eyes never wavered as he watched her every movements intently. He already predicted her destination but was rather puzzled as to why. Then a grin spread across his face as a few theories came to mind.

As Wendy approached Nibbs turned his head in her direction to give her a nod of acknowledgement before turning to watch the pianist conclude his movements.

"Nibbs, I would speak with you," she said pressing her hand against his arm.

"Of course," he answered politely as he took her arm and walked with her towards the wall. "What is it?"

"Nibbs," she started a little flustered. "Have you been telling your friends about me again?"

"Whatever do you mean?" he asked coyly.

"Don't be coy with me Nibbs," pressed Wendy as she leaned her head in closer to him. "You know what I am talking about."

"Depends on what they were teasing you about," he said with a grin.

"Heavens Nibbs," cried Wendy as she cringed at his playfulness. "You never cease this do you? It is almost like you purposely tell the most embarrassing things about me to ward off potential beaus."

"Why would I not?" asked Nibbs, sniffing. "You have already given your secret kiss away. No need to have more unwanted attention."

"You speak as if I have forgotten," said Wendy as she turned her gaze towards the twirling couples before her. When she turned her face towards him she had that accusing look back on her face. "That gives you no excuse to go around parading my childhood…"

"Oh come now Wendy," interrupted Nibbs with his hands up in the air. "What did the bloke say to put you in such a fuss?"

"He called me Red Handed Jill!" she exclaimed quietly.

To this Nibbs stopped grinning and Wendy could see the frown on his face.

"What is it?" she asked hesitantly.

"I never told anyone about that," he said seriously.

"You, you haven't?" asked Wendy as she suddenly got very nervous.

"Who was it that called you that?" asked Nibbs. He was no longer joking and his seriousness made Wendy almost afraid.

"I wish I knew," answered Wendy honestly. Her gazed turned down as she thought about all the feelings that ran through her as she had danced with him. Her sigh was almost inaudible as she turned to look back up at Nibbs. She couldn't help the innocent, questioning look in reply to his stern exploration of her face. The intent on his face made her wary. "What is it?"

"Your eyes almost look dreamy," he said looking at her a moment longer. "Are you taken with whoever this man is?"

"No matter if I am," said Wendy as she tried to keep out the defensiveness in her tone. "Something about him was so very familiar." Wendy tilted her head to decide which words could properly describe her feelings.

"Excuse me Miss. Darling," prompted a masked gentleman.

"Yes?" she asked politely.

"I have come to ask if you would give me the next number," said the young man as he offered his hand to her.

"I have the next one sir," blurted Nibbs rather rudely.

Wendy turned around enough to give him a scolding look with her eyes before she smiled apologetically towards the gentleman. "Please excuse my brother," she said. "He can be rather overprotective of my person."

"Not at all," answered the man undeterred. "In what other way would a brother be of proper use?" joked the man gently.

Wendy allowed herself to laugh sweetly enough as she took his hand. She glanced back at Nibbs to see him glaring at the man's head as he crossed his arms. He watched closely as Wendy began the dance, making sure that there was a decent amount of distance between them. True, he was being unreasonable and over protective where she was concerned but he couldn't help it. Though they were not actually blood relations, all the Lost Boys were very sheltering towards their older sister. If the other boys were here now, they would have been equally wary of any potential beaus. His eyes moved over to where John was dancing with his lady on the other side.

John, who was not as viciously protective of Wendy as the Lost Boys were, was busy courting someone himself. He was more realistic to things. The inevitable would happen and Wendy would eventually find that perfect man that would make her happy. The man that would give her a house to raise their children and so she could pass on her stories. It was something that was ingrained within her, which was what the boys loved about her the most. They were all getting older and Nibbs knew that it would happen, but he was going to make sure it wasn't as soon as all that. It was Wendy who had been the one constant in their ever-changing lives. He owed it to her to make sure that she would be very well taken care of. Most importantly, he owed it to someone else.

Irritation was something very consistent in his being and he could feel his tense muscles beginning to ache. He gave another glance towards Wendy and her partner before he returned his focus on the piano and its mesmerizing notes. It allowed his mind to clear as he tried to keep his focus on how the master was playing the keys with ease. It gave him a few moments of peace before the questions came to his mind as he thought of what Wendy had brought to his attentions. Someone had figured out that her fantasy pirate name was Red Handed Jilly. It was something even the Lost Boys wouldn't have mentioned to anyone. The name was connected to so many conflicts and fighting. It was not something they used to tease Wendy about because it was a rather serious matter to them.

The striking of the clock brought Nibbs out of his thoughts as he realized that they had thirty more minutes left before everyone was to reveal themselves. The night was drawing to a close and he was relieved for it. He had wished that Slightly would have been able to keep him company during this but his friend was busy taking care of his mother during her illness. It was oddly coincidental to Nibbs that Aunt Millicent had conveniently come down with something tonight when she was fine the rest of the time. If he thought enough about it, he would guess that it was his aunt's way of showing that she was not ready to part with Slightly to another woman just yet. Nibbs had, had no excuse to decline attending. Michael and the rest of the boys were still too young to come to events such as these. He couldn't wait for them to hurry and grow up.

"Time could not move anymore sluggishly," confessed a masculine voice to the right of him.

Nibbs turned to see a young fellow a couple years older than himself standing beside him. The fellow wasn't looking at him but at the dancers.

"I would be glad to be rid of this mask," he finished.

"My face feels as though I could scratch it off," said Nibbs good-naturedly.

"So I am not the only one then," he laughed. It was then that he looked at Nibbs. "This truly is a great coincidence."

"How so?" asked Nibbs.

"I believe we have been introduced before, this very afternoon in fact," answered Peter.

Nibbs thought for a moment before his eyes widened. "Moby Dick…" started Nibbs with a grin. "Yes, I do remember. Fancy seeing you here again chap."

"Yes, very good to see you again," answered Peter with a grin.

"I am sure you were busy all night dancing," teased Nibbs as he jabbed at his ribs.

"The only consolation about wearing a mask is that it gives you the liberty of anonymity," answered Peter. "I have not danced for most of the night."

"How did you occupy your time?" asked Nibbs. "I have been almost bored to tears." He turned to look at the piano again before he added, "Not one for dancing?"

"Not particularly, no," laughed Peter. "But if it is called upon me, I must accept." He turned his head and grinned at Nibbs again. "I am passing the time by my powers of observation. Besides, there has been a lack of suitable partners," he finished as he hoped he would be baiting Nibbs into mentioning Wendy.

"Then you have not danced with my sister," commented Nibbs a bit smugly.

"Oh yes," said Peter nonchalantly. "Your storyteller sister. Which one is she?"

"The pirate over there in the red," pronounced Nibbs as he pointed in the direction of Wendy. She was in the middle of being twirled and Peter had the urge to steal her away from her partner again. She was like a magnet that he was pulled towards.

"I have had the pleasure," said Peter as he tried to keep his tone neutral. "She would be one of the exceptions to my observations."

"You would not be the only one," laughed Nibbs as he jabbed Peter in the ribs again. "She is always asked to dance, she is."

Peter could only nod as he tried not to look at Wendy. She seemed to be enjoying herself and she had not noticed him yet. He wondered if she even considered that he might be the boy she knew. He had not given her anytime to truly respond to his clue. Watching her as she talked to her mother and exchange words with Nibbs was precious. He could have watched her as long as she would let him. Little did he know that he was on her mind. The mysterious man who had made such an impression upon her so fast.

"So tell me more about 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea," said Peter to change the subject. Longingly gazing at Wendy would not escape Nibbs' notice. He turned his head completely from the dance floor to hear out the story.

            Wendy may have looked like she was enjoying herself but she was lost within her head with thoughts. She obligingly looked at her partner and smiled to be polite but she was not with him in mind. Her thoughts were centered around **him**. The way he had held her and the way that his eyes lit in a special way. Even in her moment of embarrassment, she could feel the intense gaze and it brought a fluster to her cheeks. He did not act like a stranger but rather as someone that had been close to her for a very long time. If only this were not a costume ball. She glanced up at the Grandfather clock at the end of the dance hall. Midnight would be here at the close of this dance. She had to find him before that. Even though something inside told her that she would recognize him anywhere.

            The thought that Nibbs would have mentioned her pirate name did not necessarily anger her. He had been known to get in the way of potential suitors by telling them something rather unladylike about her. It had not really bothered her until the moment her mystery gentleman had called her Jill. Of all the opinions of the potential suitors, he was the one that she found herself caring about. He had not seemed offended, nor insulting. There was a hint of teasing and a hint of something else. It was something akin to hope. Her feelings were suddenly very confused and she tried to clear her mind.

            Wendy's eyes searched the room again for any sign of him. She caught a glimpse of Nibbs talking with someone, but their back was turned towards her so she could not see them as she passed. Images and bodies were blurred as she was twirled again and she could hear that the music was drawing to a close. She felt a sudden relief and vaguely wondered at the silence of her current partner. Her eyes moved towards his and he seemed to be watching her intently. She knew she should have blushed under his scrutiny but she felt nothing. Feeling oddly dull about the entire situation.

"You seem made to dance Miss. Darling," he commented.

Wendy nearly frowned as she realized she did not know his name either. "Thank you," she smiled. "You are no stranger to it yourself sir," she said politely.

"I have wanted to ask you to dance all night."

Wendy smiled weakly at him as she tried to divert her gaze. "I thank you for your attentions."

"You have more than my attention Miss. Darling," he said seriously.

She honestly did not know how to respond to that. He was being very blunt and it unnerved her. It was almost forced. That is when the music finally stopped and she stepped back to take her bow. "Thank you for the dance, kind sir," she said. "I must take my leave now."

Before he could respond, she had turned quickly around to walk towards Nibbs. The clock struck midnight and everyone around her quickly took off their masks to mark the end of the secrecy. Shouts of surprise and laughter rang through the halls as everyone exposed their identities. Wendy found herself taking her own mask off and blinking to get used to the lighting. She stopped short of her destination as she saw the one who was talking to Nibbs turn around. Her heart seemed to stop for a moment as she saw the familiar mask in his hand and the face it had kept hidden from her.


	6. Chapter Five

**Author's Note: **Thank you to Captain Oblivious and ChildOfGod and all the rest of my reviewers for their encouragement. I'm trying to update as soon as I can. I hope you all continue to like my fic.

Chapter Five

            Wendy seemed to have lost feeling in her legs, as she stood frozen in place, heedless to the looks she was receiving. She was all but gaping with her mouth open at the man before her. Her eyes were wide and her expression shocked as the two men turned to fully look at her. The one who had caused this sudden reaction looked at her almost hesitantly and she felt something strange pass through her.

"Ah, there you are Wendy," said Nibbs as he waved her towards them. "You must meet my new friend."

Wendy slowly approached with her eyes glued to his face.

"May I present my sister, Miss Wendy Darling," gestured Nibbs proudly. "The master storyteller."

"Miss Darling," said Peter holding out his hand for her grasp. "At last we are introduced."

Wendy couldn't help the shiver that ran through her back at his touch and the tone of his voice. It spoke of something far deeper. "How do you do sir?" she asked with a curtsy as she watched him dip his head to lay a kiss lightly upon her knuckle. She knew that he could see that she was trembling. She turned her questioning gaze towards Nibbs.

"Oh dash it all," exclaimed Nibbs as he smacked his head with the palm of his hand. "I have forgotten your name old chap."

"Panning," answered Peter as he smiled at Nibbs. "That is quite all right."

"I was just telling him how well you tell 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea," commented Nibbs. He noticed the strange instantaneous connection between Wendy and his new friend but chose to ignore it.

"Have you, read that one sir?" asked Wendy as if she were suddenly out of breath.

"I cannot say I have," answered Peter as he tried to turn his heads towards Nibbs again. "Though my library is fairly extensive, I cannot say I have heard of that particular one."

"You have your own library?" exclaimed Nibbs. "I say. I shall have to pay you a visit to investigate what you have in your collection."

"You are welcome anytime you like," smiled Peter. He risked a glance at Wendy to find her staring at his face. She looked almost as if she were lost. He forced himself to look at the clock. "I fear it is time for me to depart," he said. "I must get my guardian to rest. He was not feeling well earlier."

"Must be an epidemic going around," commented Nibbs. "Our aunt has come down with something as well."

"It must be," agreed Peter. "I shall look for you Nathaniel. Come by my house anytime you like. Bring your brothers along with you, if you like. I should like to be around more fellows my age." Peter smiled warmly at his friend and couldn't help but see the imploring look on Wendy's face. Her eyes spoke volumes of uncertainty and questions. "Until we meet again Miss Darling," he said far too softly to his liking. He gave her a slight bow.

Wendy could not form words. The only thing she found she could do was curtsy and watch as he disappeared again. Her heart ached as she watched him distance himself from her and get lost in the crowd. Just as she was about to run after him, Nibbs chose that moment to speak.

"I say smitten would be the short end of it," he commented.

"What?" asked Wendy, as if she just noticed him standing beside her.

Nibbs laughed. "I have known you a long time dear sister," he said. "You have never looked at any man as you were at him."

Wendy looked down at her hands. No, she had looked at someone else that way before.

"So that was all that happened?" asked Smee as he and Peter rode their carriage back home.

"Yes," answered Peter distractedly. He was staring out the windows, watching the quiet streets of London.

"Hmm."

Peter turned to look at Smee. "What is it?"

Smee was rubbing his chin in thought. "I would have thought you would be more direct, lad."

"So did I," answered Peter honestly. "I panicked. My confidence has failed me."

"That happens to the best of us," reassured Smee. "I am just surprised that you showed so much restraint."

"It was not restraint but more fear to kept me still."

"That only shows that you have matured," explained Smee. "If you had been the boy you were, you would have swept the floor and flown out the window with Wendy in your arms. You chose the dignified path. I can't say cowardice is not a good thing here."

"But I am Peter Pan!" exclaimed Peter. "I am confident about everything!"

"Ye be older now," answered Smee. "But I feel as if you were keepin' something out."

"What do you mean?"

"There be something else you are worried yeself about."

Peter almost asked him what he meant but realized he had kept something out. Something that was the cause of his lack of confidence. "I ran into Nibbs on the street this afternoon," he said flatly.

"And?"

"He did not recognize me," he finished.

"It would be difficult to recognize you now," said Smee.

"Not like that," insisted Peter. "It was almost as if he had forgotten me."

"You fear you are forgotten by the young Miss as well?"

"Now I am not so sure," sighed Peter. "But the connection we shared is still there. It felt stronger."

"Did Miss Wendy recognize you?"

"There were moments when I thought she did," said Peter as he ran his hand through his hair. "But she did not voice a thing. Even when she, Nibbs and myself were conversing, she did not say anything to ask. What am I to think?"

"Do you regret your decisions if she did not remember you?"

"No," answered Peter quickly. "I have made up my mind that I will win her whether or not she does know who I am."

Smee watched Peter pause again. He felt great sympathy towards the young man for his turmoil. The evening was a success and a failure all in one to Peter. It definitely had not been as eventful as he had foreseen. He had thought that the two would quickly find each other and shout. He had already planned a quick departure for them both when they created that "appalling and disrespectful" display that was sure to set off gossip. Not that he had thought Peter's training all fruitless. Still, Peter had not fully changed, in his opinion. Maybe Smee was mistaken by that assumption. Now, it seemed that both were acting like the respectable adults that they were raised to be. The whole situation gave Smee a sense of supreme pride. This courtship may take longer than he thought.

"That does not stop my heart from aching just a little," confessed Peter. "I had wished that she knew me and could love me as something more."

            The carriage came to a halt in front of the Panning residence and Peter climbed out first before helping Smee out. Even in his distress and self-pity, he did not forget that Smee was becoming more and more fragile. The old man was his anchor. His feelings towards him were that of a son to a father. Smee would never admit it, but he was becoming more dependent upon his cane. He was never young to begin with, but Peter could see the struggle.

"Would you like me to escort you to your room?" Peter asked worriedly.                                                             

"Don't trouble yeself my lad," answered Smee. "I thank you for yer consideration but I am still capable." With that, Peter watched his guardian make his way slowly up the stairs and bid him good night.

            Sleep would not come to him tonight. Sighing, he decided he would make the most of his sleeplessness and spend the rest of the night working on the tree house. Quickly and as quietly as he could, he went to his room to change out of his costume before walking back outside with a lantern in hand. It would not help him much in the dense London fog. He found himself missing the brilliant lights of the fairies. They would have helped him immensely at that moment.

The uncertainties of the night were almost too much for him. He had, had the perfect chance to tell Wendy who he was. He could have showed her the power of her hidden kiss. How much she had changed the boy who refused to grow up. Although he did thoroughly enjoy being her masked suitor in the beginning. He simply couldn't help himself but to take advantage of that chance. When he had turned and saw that she was staring at him disbelief, he had panicked. It certainly was not the way he had foreseen things being when he had been allowed to be with her. Perhaps if Nibbs had not been present, things would have been different. What he saw in Wendy's eyes gave him more hope and warmth than he could have ever asked for. The feelings that were awakened with her presence was both startling and inviting. Suddenly time could not move fast enough.

            It was there, outside and in the tree house, that Smee found him the next morning. The young man slept in the space he had made for Wendy. It was by far the most luxurious in all the tree house. There was never anything good enough for whatever was to be Wendy's. His dreams were not peaceful. He seemed in great distress as he squirmed and pleaded within the sleeping space. He had hoped that maybe seeing Wendy again and being in her company would stop these nightmares. From the looks of it, it wasn't to be so. The old man did not know whether it was a good or worrisome thing when Peter did not rush to the Darling residence, but instead had opted for taking a long stroll at Kensington Gardens. Smee could do little else but let Peter handle this disappointment on his own.

            Peter was quiet and his step was not as cheerful as he walked the grounds of the familiar park. He paid no heed to those around him and kept to himself. The quiet sounds of the water to his left helped him try to drown out the unnecessary sounds of others occupying the park grounds. He kept his head bowed so that his hat covered his face as he paced the familiar grounds back and forth. Flashes of Wendy's face paced through his mind with lightning speed. All the expressions were of shock, awe, happiness and hopefulness. How much he could not let go of that face.

            Peter stood beside the pond for a long time. His hands in his pockets and his head was still bowed. The images of Wendy's face were so vivid that he could almost reach out and touch her. He had dreamt of her again. This time the dream had been different. Hook's old taunts had resurfaced and had been precise in its bite. The dead man's venomous words never failed to sting Peter.

"She would rather grow up than stay with you."

            The words had been true. No matter how enticing the offer of immortality and youth on an island full of adventure, Wendy had declined. She had chosen to grow up and separate herself from him completely.

"What is this I see? There is another, in your place," Hook had hissed. "He is called, husband."

            That insight always did him in. In his dream, Peter had seen the husband that would replace him. A well to do, handsome young man who had Wendy in his arms flashed before him. He watched the scene helplessly. Wendy happened to glance in Peter's direction but her eyes were far off. She had looked away without the briefest moment of recognition. If Smee hadn't awoken him that morning, he probably would have cried out his anguish. The cry wanted to escape him now. His mouth unconsciously opened to deliver it but it died before it could be uttered when Peter noticed a presence behind him and spun around.

            Two eyes of sapphire blue were watching him in uneasiness and surprise. Full lips that had produced such magic when they had pressed against his, were open an expression of nervousness. A voice that he had longed to hear refused to sound. Hands that were so small and delicate were hung by her sides in stunned surprise. His heart quickened at the sight of her loveliness and he longed to hold her in his arms.

"Mm, Mr. Panning!" she exclaimed uneasily. "What a surprise to find you here."

"A very nice surprise to see you Miss Darling," he answered quickly to hide his surprise. He gave her a quick bow before giving her a comforting smile. "Have you been accompanied by your brothers?"

"No," she said shaking her head. "I felt a great need to stroll the parks by myself."

"I understand," said Peter. "But it does not do to have a lady unescorted in such a large park. Would it be terribly blunt to ask if I could join you in your stroll?"

"Not at all sir," she answered softly. "I would like your company very much."

"Can I offer you my arm?" He offered with a grin.

"You can sir," she answered as she returned his smile. She gently wrapped her arm around his and they began their walk together.

They walked a slow pace as they listened to the whistles of the trees and the soft sounds of the water that they walked beside. The weather was cool and the sun was still high in the sky but it would not be long before the sun began its descent into sleep. Birds flew past them and the fellow patrons were in their own worlds as they passed. A short distance away there were two young boys throwing a ball at one another.

Wendy's grip upon his arm was almost hesitant and Peter felt the familiar electricity at her touch. He wondered briefly as he tried to imagine what her touch could do to him if it were directly upon his skin.

"How did you enjoy your night last night?" asked Peter to keep his thoughts clear.

"Very well, thank you," she said. "But it did leave me a little uncertain."

Peter risked a look at her and wondered if he should dare to ask her what it was. "Uncertain?"

Wendy's blue eyes turned to his. "About you sir," she said.

"What makes you uncertain?" he asked as his mouth suddenly felt very dry.

"It was you who I danced with last night, was it not?"

"Yes, I was," he answered evenly.

"I can find no words to get around what has been troubling all night," confessed Wendy as she stopped walking to look at him properly. "So I must just come out with it." Wendy inhaled deeply to find her courage.

"Watch out!" shouted one of the boys as a ball flew past Peter's head and knocked Wendy's parasol out of her hands and into the water. Peter watched as the ball bounced back towards the boys and turned to Wendy quickly to see if she had been hurt.

Wendy let out a loud gasp of disbelief as she rushed towards the edge of the water. "Oh heavens!" she exclaimed in dismay. "That parasol belongs to my mother." She bit her bottom lip in dispair.

"Dearly sorry Miss," said the little boy with his small friend beside him. He could not have been more than ten. "I threw it too hard. Begging your pardon Miss."

"It was an accident," said Wendy as she gave him a warm smile. "Do not trouble yourselves for that. But I do not know how I shall face my mother when I tell her that her favorite parasol is floating around the round lake in Kensington Gardens."

"Shall I go and fetch it?" asked Peter as he stood beside her, his eyes never leaving the beloved parasol.

"It would not do to have you soaked just to reach it," reasoned Wendy as she unconsciously grabbed hold of his arm to keep him still. She somehow knew that he would do just that.

Peter gave her a wide grin that made her heart flutter and he turned towards the scared little boy. "We shall make an adventure of it," he said with a wink. "With the current, it is bound to come close enough to the shores to snatch and we shall be there when it does. What do you think?"

"That would be excellent."

"Good, now off we go!" shouted Peter as they ran along side the water with the direction of the current.

"Oh!" Wendy managed to exclaim helplessly as she watched them. Had she been younger, she would have joined them. Now she could not. Her skirts were too voluminous and constricting for her to run. It would not do to be running around and risk looking disheveled for everyone to see. She had no other choice but to walk a little quicker than usual behind them. She watched as Peter turned his head and laughed and she stopped in her step. She knew that laugh.

"Look there men!" shouted Peter, not at all noticing that Wendy was staring at him with a very unladylike expression. "We must grab branches so as to lure it towards us."

"Won't we get into trouble for breaking off the branches?" asked one of the boys as he watched with apprehension as Peter snapped one of the longer branches off the tree.

"It is either we risk punishment from the authorities or failing this fair lady by not returning her parasol," said Peter with a reassuring smile.

"Hurry!" shouted the other boy as he pointed towards the oncoming prize. "It will pass us."

"All right men," said Peter. "Here is our chance."

            During this grand display of heroism shown in behalf of herself, Wendy could not have cared less about the outcome. Her eyes were entranced by the man who would be her hero. The grin on his face and the laughter that erupted from his lips put her in a dream like trance. She did not know what was real and what was her imagination. She watched as he succeeded in grabbing hold of her mother's parasol and lifting it high above his head like a trophy. A huge grin was on his face as he beamed at the boys with him.

"We are victorious!" proclaimed Peter brightly. "Shall we return our treasure to its rightful owner?"

            Before the boys could respond they hear the familiar call of their mothers to return to them. Both boys gave a holler and thanked Peter quickly for the excitement before running away. Peter still had a proud grin upon his face as he watched the boys run off. With his treasure right within his grasp, he turned to Wendy. What he saw took his breath away, almost making him drop what he had worked hard to rescue.

            Peter didn't trust himself to speak. It almost seemed like he was still dreaming as he continued to look at her. He watched her approach him hesitantly but he found his feet weren't moving. They wouldn't move forward and they wouldn't carry him away. The only thing he could do was watch as this heavenly creature made her way slowly towards him. His eyes moved across her body as he tried to memorize everything about her. The light swaying of her hips made her dress swish to the sides. Her lips were quivering nervously. Her eyes seemed to ask so many questions as she approached him.

Wendy's pace towards him was very slow and cautious. He could feel his arms itch to grab hold of her and never let go. She stopped just when short of having their chests touching and looked up into his face. Stormy green eyes looked down at her in a look of longing that she could not dismiss.

"What are you?" she gasped. Her hand went up to his face as if she were examining him but stopped short of touching his cheek. "Are you a ghost to haunt me so?"

Peter stood very still and watched as she bit her bottom lip. Her gloved hand touched his cheek lightly and her eyes followed her fingers.

"I know you must think I am mad, sir," she said as her hand traveled over his eyes. "Please believe that I do not indulge in these kinds of inhibitions often." She had a dreamy look in her eyes. Her touch was making him quake and she longed to feel the skin of her hand. The words she spoke were said as if, even she, was not paying attention to them. She blinked as if her trance was broken and she made to move her hand away, but Peter grabbed hold of it.

"What ghosts haunt you lady?" he asked gently.

Wendy bit her lip again and looked very embarrassed about her bold actions. She turned away from his infectious gaze to keep the blush from her cheeks. "A boy," she whispered sadly as the winds began to pick up, causing her skirts to sway.

"What boy do you dream of?"

Her gaze was upon him again. The dreamy look back on her face. "A boy that will never grow up," she answered softly. He heard the soft sigh that escaped her as he unconscious began to lightly rub her hand with his thumb.

"How am I a ghost for a boy?" he asked curiously. Wendy, who was always so vibrant and thoughtful, was talking as if she were the ghost.

Wendy slowly withdrew her hand from his grip and sighed again. "I see him in your eyes," she answered looking away again. "All the feelings that I had when I as with him seem to all resurface when I am with you."

"Could I be that boy you long for?"

Wendy gave a sad laugh as she shook her head. "No," she said as she stepped away from him. "As much as he was a hero to sacrifice himself, that is one thing he would never sacrifice."

"What is that?"

"His youth," she said with such finality that Peter would have believed her had he not known otherwise. "He would never give that up for anyone."

"What if he had?" urged Peter as he watched her withdraw from him. The tears in her eyes breaking him. "What if he did give it up?"

"It is too late," said Wendy as she shook her head. "I am grown." She turned to walk away.

"No," said Peter as he reached for her hand and held it within his, dropping the parasol onto the floor. "I am just in time. We have grown together."

"We?" she asked as she sniffed through her tears. She avoided his eyes.

Peter pulled her closer to him and held her face gently in his to force her to return his stare. "Can you really not see me?" pleaded Peter. "Have you forgotten me so completely that you cannot see the face of the boy?"

"What have you done?" she asked returning his gaze, her eyes like shining pools as she seemed to implore him.

"Only what I have promised," he said pulling her to him so that their faces were breaths apart. He pressed her hands against his chest as he looked into her eyes again.

"Can it really be you?" she asked in a whisper. She looked so fragile and shaken. "Is it truly possible?"

Instead of answering her with his words, he guided her hands towards the collar of his shirt. He glanced around to see if anyone were nearby before he slowly opened up the collar to expose the chain he constantly wore around his neck. He let her hands linger against his chest and kept his arms at his sides as he watched her. There was wonder and a sense of awe about her. Her eyes were fixed upon the chain and she seemed to fight within herself. Slowly, her hand went to grab hold of one side of the chain and bring it out against the white of his shirt. Her fingers slid smoothly down the metal until the thimble rested upon her palm.


	7. Chapter Six

Author's Note: I really am sorry that I was not able to get this chapter up sooner. The last chapter ended in a way that was open to interpretation. I am unsure if I should continue this story now. I'd appreciate feedback as to if I should keep going. At the end of this chapter, the story can end. I was just wondering if anyone wanted me to expand the story to explain how the Lost Boys grew up. Let me know.

Chapter Six

A loud sob like gasp escaped Wendy's lips as she began shaking uncontrollably and crying shamelessly onto Peter's chest with the thimble clenched within her hand. Peter could not tell if this were a good or bad reaction to his confession. He could do little else but run his hands smoothly over her back in hopes of calming her. Wendy raised her head slightly and buried her face in Peter's shoulder as she clung to him as if her life depended upon it. Peter's arms around her were like a rock inside the storm of emotion that she found herself.

"This is no dream Wendy," he said soothingly. "I'm here. It's Peter."

Her small, hopeful face looked up at him as if he held the key to her happiness. "You say so," she sniffed. "But I think it might be my biggest pretend." With that she laughed joyfully and began rubbing her tears away from her eyes.

"Then let me be that Wendy," said Peter as he laid his hands upon her waist. "So long as I can be with you."

"Oh Peter!" she cried with a brilliant smile upon her face. "If you were just a big pretend it does not matter to me. Only do not leave me alone again."

"I never truly left Wendy," he said honestly. "I just could not be by your side. But I have always been there."

Wendy wiped her nose against her small handkerchief. Her eyes traveled his face again but this time in a new light. No longer was she using her imagination to see what she hoped he was. She was seeing Peter as a man. The realization marveled her. Her hand came up to travel the lines of his cheek and moved around his face. She could feel Peter's hands clench and unclench on her waist and it made her feel strong. It had not fully struck her yet that she had so much influence on him.

"How you have grown," she commented as she pulled her bottom lip into her mouth.

Peter's right hand came up to claim her hand and held it, making lazy circles around it with his thumb. "Do you find me pleasing now Wendy?" he asked a bit of uncertainty. The changes that his body had experienced left him feeling somehow inadequate at times. There are more than a few times he had felt more awkward than comfortable. Smee had told him that his confidence would return when his mind had adjusted to the changes within his body.

Wendy found herself blushing under his gaze and his question. "You have always been pleasing to me Peter," she answered honestly.

"Do you think you could love me?" he asked looking at her in such a way that she could not turn away.

The mood had become so intense that Wendy began to laugh nervously to ease the tension. Her eyes glittered up at him as her laughter caused a smile to form on his face. "You, asking of love," she mused but there was no malice behind her tone. "Does love still offend the great Peter Pan?"

"It never offended me," he answered seriously. "It was fear."

"Fear?" she asked, her eyes filled with confusion. "What is there to fear from love?"

"Everything," his eyes spoke of untold trials as he looked away from her.

"Do you think you could love me?" she asked laying her hands beside the thimble around his neck. From the corner of her eyes she saw his eyes snap back towards her.

"I never stopped," he confessed.

The sudden straight, forward declaration was enough to render Wendy almost permanently speechless. The sincerity in Peter's face could not deny the utter truth of his confession. Fresh tears lit her eyes as she looked up at the beautiful man in front of her. A boy who had been so carefree and confident, had turned into a responsible and unsure man. She would never have foreseen this. What could change such a person?

Peter mistook her silence as apprehension and not happiness. So he quickly began speaking. "I have always loved you Wendy," he said in a tone that sounded very much like pleading. "Did you never see it?"

"How could I Peter?" she asked sadly. "Whenever I mentioned such a notion you shut me out. What was I supposed to believe?"

Peter brought her closer to himself and held her tightly. "I know I have hurt you," he whispered soothingly into her ear. "I know I have a lot to prove. I only ask you one thing." He withdrew enough to lift her face to his.

"What is it?" asked Wendy with an amount of fear in her eyes.

"Another chance," he answered stroking her cheek and wiping away her tears. "Will you give me one last chance?"

"Yes," she said faintly as she looked into his eyes. The intensity of his gaze made her blush and she looked away.

Peter sighed audibly, in relief. "You can never know how much that means to me."

Curiosity made her eyes reach for his again. Everything about him was such a surprise. It was almost as if this were some version of Peter in her mind and not the Peter that she knew. "I need to get to know you all over again Peter," she mused with a smile. "You are so very different."

Peter gave her a small smile as he reached for her hand again. "We have time for that."

"What do we do now?" she asked with a small smile on her face.

"I was hoping you would tell me," he said with a hint of teasing in his voice.

"I cannot tell you the future, Peter," said Wendy. She placed the chain behind his shirt again and began buttoning his collar for him. "That is what makes life so much more exciting." The smile on her face was breathtaking and he felt that familiar weakening of his knees at the sight of her.

"The first thing I feel I am obliged to do is deliver you safely to your home," he said offering her his arm.

Wendy nodded as she allowed him to lead them back onto the path. He picked up her dropped parasol and shook the water out of it. "Oh Peter!" she exclaimed as she jumped in front of him in delight. "The boys will be positively thrilled!" 

"Do you think they will be disappointed in me?" he asked apprehensively.

"Why would they?"

"I am not the way they remember me."

"I think they would be more agreeable about the way you are now," insisted Wendy. "They have grown now. They cannot conduct themselves like they did when you were with them in Neverland."

"Have they forgotten me?" asked Peter.

"Forgotten you?" asked Wendy as her eyebrows knotted. "How could they have ever forgotten you?"

"Nibbs could not even recognize me," said Peter as he managed to hold in his pout.

"Maybe it was that you were so physically changed," mused Wendy as they walked. She clung to his arm comfortably and walked closely with him. "He was questioning me rather thoroughly about you last night."

"About me?" asked Peter in surprise. "Did you know it was me last night?"

"Your eyes," she said tilting her head to look at him. "They have not changed. Your presence was as overpowering as it always was to me. I just could not be sure."

"I will never be able to hide from you will I?" he asked with a grin.

The grin was as infectious as it always had been and Wendy found herself smiling back at him. "No, I don't think that is possible."

"What shall we play this time?" asked Peter playfully. "Will you be Juliet? Cinderella while I scour the countryside for you? Snow White, trapped in her glass coffin awaiting her true love's first kiss? Or would you become a fierce lady pirate who writes about her many sea adventures?"

"I would be Wendy," she declared proudly. She laughed at his questioning face as they approached the streets. "Wendy who waits for her hero, Peter Pan, to come back to her."

The two people shared a warm smile with each other as the orange rays of the sun shone through the gardens. Everything seemed in total harmony as they made their way, calling a cab and paying no mind to everything around them.

The cab ride to Wendy's house in Bloomsbury was a quiet one. Both were hesitant to trouble the other. From time to time, their eyes would lock and they would smile warmly towards the other before looking away. The silence was not awkward. Both were in quiet contemplation within themselves. Wendy's thoughts were in a jumble as she tried to get over the supreme shock of Peter's sudden reappearance in her life. Her dreams had only been limited to the child Peter was. She had envisioned his return and the heartbreak it would cause when he would see that she had grown up and his rejection that would break her. Though she had wished in the deepest recesses of her mind that he would have stayed to grow up with her, she was still very dumb founded with it. The blunt reality of this situation had rendered her speechless but her keen mind was still racing. Looking over at the man sitting across from her, she felt a wave of warmth. The missing part of her life was finally put together, making her feel whole.

A great part of Peter's mind was trying not to push Wendy. His natural instincts were to grab a hold of her and kiss her. Kiss her and hold her until they were forced apart. The loving smile on her face made him feel everything to an extreme degree that he felt his heart about to burst. It was something similar to his reaction when she had kissed him on the Jolly Roger. That sudden burst of energy that had blown his enemies away was bubbling forth as he replayed her simple and shy statement. She did not prefer to be a princess in a fairy tale. She liked the life before her; a life that she foresaw with him in it.

Their quiet time in the cab would not last forever, he realized. He couldn't help it. Slowly and so as not to alarm her, he bent forward and grabbed a hold of her hand. The white gloves that she wore were small and he wondered if she had any ink stains from the stories she must write. Stains or no, he wanted to be able to hold her hand without the hindrance of gloves. He seemed to concentrate deeply as he looked at the contrast of their hands against each other.

Wendy made no move to take her hand away from his but instead watched him with a smile upon her lips. Slowly her free hand went up to carefully take off his hat so that she could gently run her hand through his hair. His hair was not as bushy as it had been but the color was the same. That dirty blond hair that was never tamed was not neatly combed back and manageable. She could not feel the texture of it but she knew that it would be soft. Her finger slowly came around and began to lightly trace the features of his face. She did not know where her boldness came from. Maybe it was the immense curiosity that she felt. Maybe it was just that it was her chance to actually touch him again when before she had been too shy. Before, they had not touched too much, but they had invaded each other's personal space more than enough times.

"Do you," said Wendy nervously. "Do you ever think about our last battle against Hook?"

"Often," he said a little too briefly. His lips tightened into a thin line but his touch remained gentle.

Wendy could see the flash of anger and hurt in his eyes for a moment before it was pushed away.

"He had almost won," said Peter. "He knew just how to say the words that had rung so true to my heart."

"What were they?" asked Wendy curiously. "When I saw you fall to the deck, it was the most frightening sight."

"Even more frightening than when Hook had his hook at your throat?" asked Peter.

"Yes," she answered in a soft whisper. "You are incapable of unhappy thoughts."

Peter couldn't help but laugh a little at that. Things were so different from how Wendy saw him. He was her hero still. Would he disappoint her when he told her he was only human? "I suppose in a way I was," he said thoughtfully. His eyes returned to watching her lips intently.

"Do you think your reaction will be similar to the last time?" asked Wendy shyly.

"I hope so," answered Peter. He had thought about it often and the same lethargic smile would always creep onto his lips. His fingers came up to touch her lips. Two startling eyes looked up at her, their color so rich and deep that they seemed to change. Green turned emerald and then to the bluest sapphire she had ever seen. Those eyes were focused on her trembling lips as if they could speak to them. "You told me then that you hidden kiss belonged to me," he whispered. "Does it belong to me still?"

"It always will be," she answered firmly.

"No matter what?" he asked looking up, into her eyes.

Wendy let a moment pass; not out of hesitation but of the various emotions running through her. "No matter what," she confirmed.

A light smile came to Peter's face. It was not a smirk, nor a grin. It was just a heart warming smile that made the butterflies in her stomach flutter about. The smile that graced her face had just the right affect on Peter. He was lost to her and he knew he never did mind it.

"How glad I am to hear that," he said as he closed the distance between them. Wendy found herself closing her eyes in nervous anticipation for the feel of his lips upon hers. It was not disappointment but confusion that flooded her features when Peter's lips only touched the right hand corner of her mouth. Her eyes flew open and they seemed to ask him why.

Another warm smile ran across his lips as he lightly ran his finger along her lower lip. "There," he said stopping his finger where he had kissed her. "In the right hand corner," he said focusing on her mouth. "I hope that one day, the entire kiss will belong to me."

The familiar sounds of a carriage beginning to stop made them finally pull back from one another. Each smiled at the other with a sense of mischief and excitement before Wendy carefully replaced Peter's hat up on his head. Her hand lingered over his face briefly before she fully turned towards the door to avoid his eye. She tried not to blush under Peter's intense gaze. The practical part of her knew that now, they both had to conduct themselves the appropriate way. Yet, their relationship was based on the inappropriate in so many ways. It was going to be very hard to practice all the things engraved in her while Peter was around.

Wendy had a slight bounce to her graceful step as she ascended towards her front door with Peter. A brilliant smile radiated from her face and a great part of her felt as if she could drown in a fit of unnatural giggles. She seemed on air until she could fell the hesitation in the person beside her. Slowly she turned before ringing the familiar doorbell and gave Peter a questioning look.

"I…," said Peter uneasily. His body was stiff and he felt he could not move. "I am not sure I am ready for this."

"What do you mean?" asked Wendy curiously.

"It isn't that I do not wish to see the boys," he explained as his eyes swept the house he had watched so closely for so long. Wendy noticed that his accent faltered and she could hear his real voice now. It made her smile. Peter finally fixed his anxious gaze on Wendy. "I have waited so long," he continued. "I have lived for this moment but now that I am here… I know not which way to go or what to do."

"Do you feel this is the end of your adventure, Peter?"

Peter's eyes snapped out of his revelry to look at her as if the very notion was unthinkable. It lightened her heart. He shook his head. "No. This is the first of many things to come. I just hope for so many things."

"We all hope and dream," said Wendy with a twinkle in her eye. "No longer do you have to hope and dream alone. I will not leave your side." She held out her hand, offering him, her support and courage.

"Do you promise that?" asked Peter as he looked at her hand. He made no move to take it.

The look on his face made her hand tingle even though he had not even touched it yet. A slight shiver ran through her again. Only Peter had the ability to do this to her, she realized. Nobody else would have such a profound effect on her as he did and he had not even touched her in any way. Only his eyes touched her and she could feel them. She wondered if she truly had as much power over him that he had over her. Everything about him in youth had been refreshing and free. Now, as a man, he was almost overwhelming. She found she loved the change in him. The hesitancy that he was showing her now was proof that he had truly changed. It made her glow with pride. She was truly special if he allowed her to see this side of himself.

Pressure and responsibility. They may have been the most frightening things about growing up for Peter. A boy would not have to ever face such things. A man would. Now Wendy was here. As always, she was the beacon in this storm of emotion that he seemed to be caught up in. She was the only thing that made sense. Her smiling face and her absolute acceptance made him feel the weight of unworthiness even more. How fortunate for him to be blessed to know her. He only hoped that she could love him as well. The way would be her family, he knew. Wendy was loyal to her family.

"They will love you, Peter," she said almost as if she were reading his thoughts.

Peter shook his head again. "It's not their love I am concerned about having," he said with a slight grin at her startled expression. The old Peter seemed to resurface a little as he winked at her.

Time. That was what they both needed. When time had been too long for him, it now did not seem like it was long enough. Would there be enough time to show her just how much of the world she meant to him? Looking at her in that moment, he knew that they were both unsure of what was to come inside the house, through the door. One step of his journey was over and now he was beginning another. One hurtle had been jumped across, a higher was ahead. To be able to stay this close to Wendy, he would fly.

Peter reached out for Wendy's waiting hand and squeezed it tight."Lead the way to our adventure together, my Wendy," he said with the grin that she had loved as a child. The grin that she knew she would love until the end of her days.

Author's Note: There it is. I hope you like it.


End file.
